


Fever

by buhnebeest



Series: Myrthe Lavellan [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, PWP, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8071441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buhnebeest/pseuds/buhnebeest
Summary: His body felt his own again.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



> Won't make much sense without first reading [Is Forever Enough](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8068138).

Now that the conjuncture of his lyrium cravings had hit an all time low and he was getting eight hours of sleep every night, his body seemed to revitalize by the hour. His perpetual migraine was gone and so was the ache in his bones, the strain in his muscles; even his skin felt looser, softer, like it no longer had to stretch to make room for the burning pain in his veins.

It was… astounding, and Cullen could barely conceive of it. He enjoyed eating again, the taste and smell of food now mouthwatering where it had once been a chore to choke down breakfast, and the exercise he took during the morning drills and his sparring matches with the Iron Bull had come to be for pleasure more than duty. All in all, he gained about a stone of muscle in the month after Myrthe first gave him the _ara tel’thenaras_.

His body felt his own again.

His decade of near-celibacy had seemingly built up an endless well of passion in him, because these days he could scarcely look at Myrthe without wanting to take her, claim her, <em> _fuck </em> _her. He stole her away from meetings and training sessions and negotiations to have her in every remotely private nook and cranny of Skyhold’s corridors, hand over her mouth to muffle the loudest of her high little moans.

Myrthe seemed not to mind.

“Please, please,” she gasped, her fingers buried in his hair, cradling him to her bared chest. He had her up against the wall, breeches pulled down to her thighs and his hand between them, stroking at her mindlessly. His fingertips slip-slided over her little pink slit, she was so wet; her cunt was open and dripping for him, begging as much as her sweet-hoarse voice.

Cullen bit soft kisses into her pale neck, letting her feel the stubble she was so obsessed with. When they were in bed, after he made love to her, she would often sit on his hips and run fascinated fingertips through the hair on his jaw, his chest, his pubis; Cullen thought he might grow a full beard just for her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her, soft and warm at her ear, so all she’d hear was him. “I can barely stand it.”

“Cullen,” she gasped, thighs quivering tellingly. She was close.

“I have to be inside you,” Cullen confessed, voice rough. “I have to… _fuck_ , you’re so wet, I have to—”

Cullen pulled his hand away – Myrthe moaned a short noise, affronted – but he was already spinning her around, pushing her face-first against the wall and crowding up close behind her. Myrthe arched her back, wanton, spreading her thighs as far as the confines of her breeches allowed. Cullen rubbed the blunt head of his cock against her cunt, bright pink and glimmering with slick, Maker’s _breath,_ he wanted—

“Please, please—” Myrthe whimpered, reaching back to pull insistently at his hip. Cullen jolted into her the rest of the way with a rough curse, filling her up, fast and deep, her cunt straining hungrily around his dick. Cullen grunted harshly against her jaw and fucked into her for long, breathless moments, curling his arms under hers against the wall so he was the one taking the impact from his thrusts.

Myrthe keened, head lolling back against his shoulder.

Cullen nipped sharply at her bared throat, laving the hurt with his tongue as he fucked into her, the slick sounds of her wet cunt ringing in her ears. Myrthe craned her neck back to meet him in a kiss that was more panting into each other’s mouths than anything more dignified; Myrthe bit his bottom lip, grinning when his hips stuttered and he lost his rhythm, just a bit.

Her little breathless giggle abruptly morphed into a high moan when he _shoved_ into her on the next stroke, hard, so hard he knocked her right onto her toes. She came like that, her little cunt clutching tight at his cock, her whole body going taut against him. Cullen couldn’t hold out after that, not after a display like that. He came inside her, burying his groan in her neck.

He stayed inside her for a while, after, savoring the little spasms of her muscles, her little panting sighs. Already he couldn’t wait to have her again; tonight he would linger, lavish kisses between her thighs until she begged him to take her, take her body like she had given him back his.


End file.
